


I Think I'm Ready

by Lightning_Summer



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Summer/pseuds/Lightning_Summer
Summary: Now he was always so cold...
Relationships: Mitch Grassi/Scott Hoying
Kudos: 26





	I Think I'm Ready

**Author's Note:**

> I started this one a really long time ago, and real life gets in the way big time. Also, it sort of got away from me just a little, but I hope you enjoy!  
> PS. Any mistakes are my own... sorry if you've found any.  
> PPS. I own nothing and if any of PTX read this - hey, cool and I hope it doesn't offend!

When Kirstie threatened him with castration, he laughed.

When Avi told him to treat his ‘little brother’ with care, he smiled.

When Kevin suggested that he be aware of the sensitivity of one of his best friends, it warmed his heart.

When Esther stared at him, he squirmed. When she vowed to kill him, he swallowed and nodded his head.

Despite the threats, he couldn’t have been happier – he had a wonderful family that he had been born into; he had played a major part in creating another close and caring family that he worked with; and he had a love that he had been waiting for his whole life, and for whom he would do anything…

***

Mitch zipped up his pants and moved over to the basin to wash his hands. Opening the tap, he unconsciously looked up and happened to get a glance of himself in the mirror. Mitch from a few weeks ago would be horrified at the sight. His hair was hanging limply from his head, over-grown so he looked like he had bangs again. His eyes were red-rimmed and he could fit his entire wardrobe in the bags beneath his eyes. His cheek bones were so prominent as to make him look anorexic and the dark stubble on his face and chin served to make him look unkempt. If he was going for the homeless, undernourished, gaunt look – he was nailing it, completely. Blowing out a deep breath, he gripped the edge of the counter and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt brittle… like he was failing apart, that all of the pixels that made up Mitchell Coby-Michael Grassi was in danger of depixelating – _was that even a word?_ – and scattering to the far corners of the earth should he encounter a gentle breeze. Holding back a sob, trying to swallow the tight lump in his throat, he shook his head and drew in a long breath before releasing it slowly and trying to empty his mind.

Abruptly, he shut off the tap, and with jerky movements shook the water off his hands, wiping the excess on the back of his dark jeans. Avoiding the mirror, he reached for the bathroom door, heaving it open and speed walking back to the hallway before coming to a dead stop.

“Dammit Scott, I told you not to come here today!” The strident whisper shout pierced the quiet of the studio.

“What?” The voice was shaky and quiet. “But why… We agreed that –”

“Didn’t you look at your messages?”

“No, Kirs –”

“Scott, just go home.” Her voice was calmer, but still flat and Mitch winced.

“But –”

“You’re not needed today.” The tone was final.

The audible intake of breath screamed loud in Mitch’s ear, and the silence that followed was near on deafening. He wanted to look, but couldn’t bring himself to do so and in response, his feet made the decision for him, retreating further into the darkened hallway away from the confrontation, away from people, away from _him_ ; his steps keeping time with the voice screaming constantly in his head. _COWARD… COWARD… COWARD…_

***

Waking from a fitful nap, he opened his eyes, squinting from the sliver of orange light coming in through the window between the drapes, and wondered if he could lie here, burrowing in the blankets for the rest of his life, doing nothing, seeing no-one and wallowing in his own misery. Turning on his side, he drew his legs up and hugged them to his chest. He shivered. His back felt cold – it always felt cold these days – and placing the pillow at his back had absolutely no effect in warming him up, or offering any sort of comfort. Closing his eyes, he consciously started slowing down his breaths and relaxing his muscles, willing himself to sleep, willing his brain to be still and willing his body to let him escape into nothingness… into numbness. Abruptly, the ringing doorbell dragged him out of his head, his eyes opened and the voice carried down the hall to him.

“I’ll get it,” Avi’s voice carried down the hall.

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any sleep, he dragged himself out of bed, figuring a shower might help, or you know, he could just drown himself under the hot water. Turning on the taps, he waited for the water to warm up, and then stepped under the spray. He turned his back to the spray, groaning at the hot water running down his skin, and looking up, stared at the shower wall opposite him, refusing to acknowledge the cold draft against the front of his body. He used to love showers, and now they were completely ruined – like everything else in his life. Inhaling deeply, he slowly breathed out, ignoring the sudden prickling in his eyes before reaching for the soap.

Stepping into the bedroom again, the smell of grilling meat reached his nostrils. He wasn’t really that hungry, but knew somebody – _Kevin or Esther_ – would come and drag him down to the dinner table and fill his plate with a mountain of food as if that alone would tempt him to eat more. If they knew though, that he barely even tasted it, that the food tasted like so much ash in his mouth that he could quite easily toss in the garbage, would they force feed him too? 

Reaching the closet, he looked at the hanging clothes and the half empty suitcase lying carelessly on the closet floor, he merely reached in and grabbed a pair of sweats pants and a T-shirt. He had no desire to dress up, and no plans to go anywhere either. Once again feeling a chill, he reached for a hoodie and quickly pulled it over his head.

A quick knock sounded before a voice called out, “Mitchy, you ready to come downstairs?”

Another knock. “Mitch?”

Knowing he couldn’t spend the rest of his days in his friends’ spare bedroom, he opened the door, and looked up at Kevin. “Yeah, hi Kev.” The hoarseness in his voice drawing a frown from his friend.

“Are you okay, Mitch?” He reached out, and lay a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m okay, thanks KO.” Seeing another frown breaking out, he reached out to grasp the hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine, I promise.” By the look on Kevin’s face, he knew that the man wasn’t buying it. 

He met the man’s eyes, “Please.”

Staring at him for the longest time, Kevin finally nodded, before pulling him into a hug. “I know you’re unhappy, and I don’t know why exactly or what happened but anytime you need to talk, I’m right here, okay?”

Seeking a little bit of comfort, Mitch held on until once again the doorbell rang. Reluctantly pulling away, he heard Avi’s footsteps heading for the door. “Welcome to… oh.”

Frowning, Mitch turned his head. He couldn’t see anything around the corner, but the way that Avi’s voice had changed was very surprising.

“Hi Avi,” The voice was unexpected.

“Hey Scott, so what’s up? Good to see you.” Mitch didn’t even need to see his face to know that Avi didn’t mean it.

“Um, thanks.” The silence at the doorway extended to the hallway, and Mitch held his breath, waiting for something to happen.

“Is Kevin here?” Scott asked softly.

“No, I’m sorry.” _What?_ Mitch frowned and looked up at Kevin who was avoiding his gaze.

“Oh, it’s just that his car is in the drive…”

“Yeah, he went out with Alyssa. Sorry.” 

“Oh, okay.” There was another long pause, before the quiet voice so unlike Scott continued, “So, I guess I’ll just go then.”

Another strained silence followed before the whispered, “Bye” and a door closing.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Mitch looked at Kevin whose eyes were focused at the end of the hall. Shifting his head, he saw Avi standing there, staring at him. “I’m just,” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “I’m just going to lie down a bit. I’m not feeling well.” And so saying, turned around and retreated into the spare bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Heading for the bed, he pulled back the covers and burrowed under the blankets, dry-eyed and uncomfortable, and yet constantly in the back of his mind were the words he couldn’t stop hearing… _coward… coward… coward…_

***

When the car finally pulled up the driveway of his, their… place, Mitch realised that he was clenching his fists. He made no move to open the door, reluctant to go inside. He didn’t even know what he was doing – he couldn’t stay in this limbo forever, and he couldn’t keep staying at Kevin and Avi’s. Maybe he could go to Kirstie, but she was busy with her wedding planning and Jeremy was around and, just no… But for now, he was running out of clothes and needed more socks and underwear. Exhaling forcefully, he consciously relaxed his hands, reached for the door and slowly pulled himself out of the car, staring at the garage doors.

“He’s not here, Mitchy,” Esther’s voice spoke over his shoulder.

Jumping slightly, he nodded before making his way slowly to the entrance. With shaking hands, he reached for his key and gently placed it in the keyhole, turning it fully until he heard the soft click. He exhaled quietly, only now admitting that he had been afraid that the key wouldn’t work or that the locks had been changed or that he would be chased away, or there would be a huge blinking sign barring him entrance… _Access Denied…_ God, his head was a dark cave of pessimism and negativity… Once again, feeling that lump in his throat, he gripped the handle and pushed inside. The place looked the same, nothing had been changed – his purse was lying on the couch, abandoned. He expected… actually he didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this… walking further in, he passed the clean, uncluttered kitchen – there were no dishes in the sink – and came to a stop at the dining room table, which was completely bare, no table cloth, no centrepiece, no place settings, no wine, just nothing.

_The flickering candlelight gave off a soft glow, subtly illuminating his grin… his straight white teeth, the neatly trimmed ginger beard, his eyes reflecting so much hope…_

“Mitchy? You’ve got a message.”

Turning from the unadorned table, he followed the sound of Esther’s voice, watching as she pushed the play button on the answering machine – the stupid device that he insisted that they get.  
  


  
_“Why do we even need a landline Scott?” He asked, flabbergasted at what he considered a completely unnecessary expense.  
“Because Mitchy,” came the amused voice, “what if somebody wants to contact us and we’re performing, and our cellphones are off?”_

_“That’s why we have voice mail”_

_“But, what if it’s an emergency, or somebody who wants us to perform for them, or… or we lose our phones, or we have an accident, or I don’t know, something else that I haven’t thought of… it’s our contingency plan, Mitch!” The tone of voice became plaintive and Mitch just shook his head.  
“That’s why we have Jonathan, or Esther… or literally anyone else who manages our lives!”_

The ‘ _Hey, you have reached Scomiche’_ was like a physical punch to the gut causing an instant churning in his stomach. He had been completely unprepared to hear their voices, which he knew was completely ridiculous given that they had recorded the damn thing together a long time ago. Of course it was on there… why wouldn’t it be… nothing else had changed except… _the dining room table…_ drawing his eyes back to that area and just beyond that to the slightly discoloured wall where a picture used to hang _.  
  
_

_  
He stepped back, shaking his head, denying the accusations… He stepped back, his right hand in front of him, palm facing out – non-threatening, trembling… He stepped back, his face crumpling, hope turning to denial turning to horror, turning to heartbreak… He stepped back, coming to an abrupt stop against the wall and yet still trying to move further… His movements shifting the frame and the loud crash of wood meeting floor, of glass breaking…  
  
_

_  
_ The loud beep brought him back to the present, and back to Esther who was watching him, frowning. He wanted to squirm, wanted to tell her that he was fine, that she should leave, or they both should leave, or anything except study him like a bug under a microscope.

“Hi, um – it’s Alex.”

At the sound of _that_ voice, Mitch’s head whipped around to stare at the machine. _What the…_

“So, I uh, just wanted to say that it was good seeing you yesterday.” _What? Why?_

“And um…” There came the sound of a throat clearing, “And I’m sorry that things didn’t work out, you know.” _WHAT. THE. FUCK?!_

“And, erm, so if you just want to give me a call to talk, or you know…” _NO._

“– whatever, I’m available any time.” _NO. LIKE. WHAT. THE. ACTUAL FUCK?!_ He couldn’t take his eyes off the machine, unconsciously clenching his hands.

“So yeah, call me, or come by Jake’s.” _THE FUCK!_

“Or I could come by your place, um yeah, let me know…” _OVER HIS DEAD FUCKING BODY! THE FUCK!?_

“So bye, talk to you soon.” The beep signalled the end of the message and still Mitch could only stare at the machine, his every muscle tensed, and his stomach churning uncomfortably. _The fuck! Alex?! Fuck him, those times are over! Fuck him if he thinks he can just come in here and just take… and just fuck him!_

“Asshole!” The vehemence in her voice, had Mitch looking up at Esther who was scowling at the machine. She turned to him, “Good riddance,” she nodded. Reaching out, she grabbed his fist, lightly brushing her thumbs over the whitened knuckles and squeezing lightly, “You’re better off without him.” Pulling him forward, she grabbed him close into her body, enfolding him into a forced embrace and rubbing his back gently. Giving him a peck to the side of his head, she clenched him tighter before letting him go to reach for the long-forgotten purse on the sofa. “Let him go back to Alex – you’re better off without him, and even better, he won’t be able to hurt you again!” 

Staring at the back of her head, Mitch focussed on the words that had come out of her mouth. _Back to Alex… Better off without him… Back to Alex… Hurt you again… Better off without him... Hurt you again… Back to Al-_ the nausea hit him with a suddenness that had his head spinning. “Oh God-” Rushing to the bathroom, he fell to his knees and vomited everything he had in his stomach, which considering his lack of appetite lately was precious little. When his body had ejected the small amount he had put into it, all he could do was dry heave – his stomach spasming, spit like so much water in his mouth and his body heaving as though it wanted to forcibly remove all of his organs. In between that, he could feel the drops falling from his eyes, snot running out of his nose and the loud choking like sobs coming from his lips.

“Oh my God, Mitch.” Esther’s hand was on his back again, rubbing hard between his shoulder blades. “Are you okay? Shall I call the doctor?

“Wait, shit, let me get a towel.”

Unable to draw any breath to even call out to her, he listened to her rush from the bathroom before focussing on the toilet again, and the foul smell of the bile that was causing even more heaving. Miserable and drained, he flushed the toilet, letting his arms fall on the seat and dropping his head on his right arm, allowing his body to just drape over the toilet, tears steadily flowing from his eyes. He was so tired, and so unhappy and just… alone! Another sob escaped, and his stomach cramped slightly in response. He just wanted to switch off his brain, to go back to a time when his life made sense, and he wasn’t cold all the time, or miserable, or just fucking not-whole! Accepting the manic care that Esther was bestowing on him, he just kept his eyes closed and wallowed, drowning in the misery that was his life.

An indeterminable amount of time later found Kirstie and Esther leading a worried Avi and Kevin into the bathroom to find him lying on the floor in a foetal position, his hair wet with sweat, drops rolling down his face mingling with the tears leaking from his eyes and short keening breaths coming from his mouth.

“Mitchy!” Kirstie rushed forward, falling on her knees beside him while Esther called for a blanket. Reaching out, she carefully lifted his head to rest on her knees, looking up when Esther came to rest next to her.

“Mitchy?”

“Hmm”

“Do you want to maybe get up off the floor? Esther called and made an appointment with the doct-”

“No!” The vehement response startled them both. “No,” came the softer response. “I just want to sleep.”

“Mitch-”

“Please, I just want to sleep.”

The quiet whisper was followed by a deep sigh before he found himself lifted to his feet and Kevin and Avi on either side of him. Slowly, they all made their way down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom. Esther rushed in to open the windows, probably to get rid of the musty smell. He hadn’t been here in a while, but everything was as he had left it – laptop on his side-table next to a dirty coffee mug, a pile of clothes hanging over his desk chair, closet doors open with hangers lying on the floor and rumpled comforter on his bed. In all honesty, he couldn’t bring himself to care, couldn’t muster up any embarrassment about the state of his bedroom, and didn’t care to check the en suite bathroom which was probably even worse of a disaster area than his bedroom.

Crawling onto his bed, he fell flat on his stomach and buried his head in the pillow, not even picking up his head when he felt the bed move when the other bodies positioned themselves around him. He knew they cared, knew they were offering quiet comfort, and yet still he couldn’t bring himself to accept it, not when he was in a position of his own making. Hitching a breath, he bit his lip, unwilling to break down in front of this part of his family – his incomplete family. More shifting drew him out of his head, before he felt two bodies closely position themselves on either side of him, a hand resting on his back and finally a blanket covering him, providing much needed warmth and triggering his surrender into exhaustion.

***

He woke to loud snores from the bottom of the bed and opened his eyes to see Kevin lying on his back in deep slumber. Shifting his head showed him Kirstie in a foetal position on his right, Esther deeply asleep on his left, hugging her pillow and finally Avi spread out on a blanket on the floor, his own laptop lying half-open next to Avi. By the change of lighting in the bedroom, he figured it to be late afternoon, and so carefully sitting up, not willing to wake anyone, he slid slowly down the bed and rolled off in the gap between Kirstie’s feet and Kevin’s head, whilst holding his breath that nobody would rise. It was a welcome feeling to be alone for a while without anyone looking at him, monitoring his food, checking how much sleep he had gotten, whether he was hungry or thirsty, if he was feeling okay, whether he needed anything, whether he wanted to talk or whatever… Taking stock, he came to the unpleasant realisation that his mouth tasted like something had died in it, his teeth felt furry, not to mention the stink of his underarms and his general foul BO, and he figured it was definitely time for a clean-up. Tip-toeing across the room, he reached for underwear and drew out the onesie stowed haphazardly in one of the drawers. Grabbing a towel, he bypassed his own bathroom, winced slightly when the door squeaked on closing, and continued on to the guest bathroom downstairs, before coming to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs.

There, looking at him in horror, holding tightly to a squirming, meowing Wyatt, stood Scott, dark jeans, baggy sweater and his black framed glasses. 

The blonde man stared before he hissed slightly and glared at the grey cat, then bent down to carefully set Wyatt on the floor who ran to Mitch, rubbing himself against his legs, whilst simultaneously trying to crawl up his legs. Dropping his stuff on the bottom step, he reached down to pick up the feline who immediately started purring in joy. Sniffling slightly, Mitch joyfully buried his face in his cat’s belly, letting Wyatt rub his head against any part of Mitch he could reach. The only thing that marred the happy reunion was Scott, still standing in the same place, unmoving – hands deep in the front pockets of his distressed jeans. Lifting his head, Mitch took in the man standing there, hunched in on himself, eyes constantly searching out the door, lips turned down and looking as miserable as he felt. 

“Hey Mitch,” Scott’s voice was a hoarse growl. On any other normal day, he knew the fans would be going mad for that voice, and he himself… well, that voice did things to him.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I didn’t know that you would still be here. I thought you would have packed and left by now.” Hunching over even more, if that was possible, he continued. “Es – um, Esther said that you guys wouldn’t be long, so I figured a couple of hours would be enough.”

Mitch opened his mouth to reply, however Scott spoke again. “I can leave, I guess.” He shrugged. “Maybe get a hotel room, or something.” He started retreating.

“No!” The sound made the both of them jump. The thought of the _or something_ , taking into account the message from Alex that he heard earlier… _Damn, was it only a few hours ago?_ Deliberately softening his voice, he continued, “I mean, no, you don’t have to do that.” Mitch spoke fast, “I mean, we’re almost done.”

“Oh, okay.” Mitch watched as he took another step back, and want to reach out and grab, to stop him from moving any further away...

“I can wait in my car until you’re finished.” He took another step back, his eyes scanning around the room, until they came to rest on him again. “Oh, I er… I also meant to ask if maybe you want to keep Wyatt for a while?” He cleared his throat, “I mean, I don’t mind… I just-” He lifted his shoulders again, and he softly said, “I think that he misses you a little… I don’t… I’m not a good substitute for him, I think… for you, I mean.”

Watching Scott like this was physically painful for Mitch. The man who used to laugh at everything, and smile and love and hug and be all touchy-feely with everyone, especially him, was nothing like the man standing here waiting for more abuse to be whaled on him. Feeling the prickling behind his eyes that heralded even more tears and the feel of his throat closing up had Mitch clearing his throat quickly and imploring. “Can we maybe talk for a bit?” Seeing the hesitance on the tall man’s face, “Please.” He would beg, he knew he would… he couldn’t live in this limbo, being miserable and causing misery.

“Uh, I guess.” Taking his hands out of his pocket, he gestured to the kitchen, “Do you maybe want some coffee or something?”

The incongruousness of being offered coffee in his own house almost drew a smile until he realised how _not funny_ the whole situation was. “No, maybe some water?”

“Okay,” Scott mumbled before turning and taking quick steps to the kitchen.

Hearing the cupboard door close and the slight thud of the glass on the counter had Mitch following the sound. Giving Wyatt an extra pet and a kiss on his head, he put him on the sofa before heading to the kitchen and almost walking into Scott on his way out.

“Oh,” Scott stopped in his tracks, “Sorry. I was just bringing your water out.”

He reached out to take it, noticing that Scott had the bottom of the glass cradled in his palm… _no chance of touching skin here…_ He held it tightly, feeling the cold seep into his hand and focussed on Scott again who was staring at his feet. “Could we sit?” Mitch gestured to the island.

He received a slight nod before Scott turned and dropped onto one the barstools. Following, Mitch sat opposite him, his back to the window. Noting that the blonde was determinedly staring out of the window, Mitch knew he would have to start, to make this right.

“So, uh… how have you been?” Mitch felt the urge to bang his head on the counter. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

Scott shrugged, “uh… I’ve been okay, I guess. What about you?”

God, could this conversation start any worse, be any more stilted… Ignoring the question, Mitch focussed on the blonde who was avoiding his gaze and seemed to be concentrating solely on his hands and the thumb nail scratching at a gouge on the countertop. Unwittingly entranced by the muscles moving under Scott’s forearm, Mitch shook his head slightly and spoke. “Scott?”

The scratching stopped, but still the man didn’t look at him. “Scott, please.” The sob was completely involuntary, and startled Scott who immediately lifted his head with a frown. “Please, can we just… let me… Let me explain, please.”

Scott sighed. “Mitch.” The weariness in his voice couldn’t have been more evident if it was a literal hand reaching up to slap him in the face. “Mitch,” he said again. His eyes tracked over, bypassed Mitch and focussed on the distant flickering lights out the window. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and I’ve tried to put it into words, but you know me.” He gave a self-depreciating laugh and shrugged miserably, causing a sinking feeling in Mitch’s gut and another crack in his heart. “You’re the one with the cleverness and the ability to think ahead.” He cleared his throat, “the one with the ability to think on his feet… Me, I’m the idiot that just jumps into things head first, bulldozing over everyone and everything in my way.”

“No!” Mitch jumped up. “No… no… no… no… no…” Mitch pulled at his hair, a sense of tragedy, of imminent disaster was looming. “Scott, please.” He just knew that if Scott continued, they would never get back to where they had been.

“Mitch,” he sighed again. “I know you think that I don’t listen, but I did-”

“Wait, please. Let me just… Just give me a chance.” _Oh God, how had it come to this?_ Unaware of the tears falling down his face, or the fact that his hair was standing on end, Mitch grabbed at Scott’s arm and squeezed, once again startling them both in the process. Ignoring Scott’s indrawn breath, Mitch beseeched the man, “Please. Please let me… I need to talk, to explain, please.” Carelessly wiping at this eyes, Mitch stared at Scott, looking into his eyes, the dull blue reflecting surprise and also abject misery.

He stared at Mitch for a long time, searching for what, Mitch didn’t know, before he gave a jerky nod. Mitch blew out a breath of relief, and abruptly let go of Scott’s arm when he started squirming.

Taking his seat again, he sniffed, wiped his hand carelessly over his face and began, “So, uh… first, I wanted to apologise.” Seeing Scott’s mouth open, Mitch held up his hand. “Please, please let me finish, then after that you can talk and uh,” Mitch cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Afterwards, you can decide um, where we go from there… after our discussion, I mean… Not that you can’t say anything then, I mean too… Fuck!” He clenched his hands. _Why was this so hard?_

“Mitch, its fine.” Scott’s hand moved across the counter before he froze completely and whipped it back and it disappeared under the counter and Mitch just wanted to break down in tears again. “Yeah, um… it’s okay. You can talk about whatever you like then we can do what um… what needs to be done. Whatever you want is fine.”

Taking a deep breath, Mitch knew that he had to get this right. It was the only chance he / they had to set this right. Staring past Scott, through the serving window, he looked again at the bare dining table, and tried to figure out where to start.

“Coming out in school in Texas, I didn’t think that I would be inundated with offers from cute boys looking to take me out, but I certainly didn’t expect that it would take me so long to have my first real relationship. More than that, after such a long time, I figured that we would soon be married and we would adopt kids, and that yours and mine would be best friends from toddlers, almost like us.” 

“Mitch-”

“No, wait…” Mitch implored, knowing he was running out of time, that he was swiftly heading towards the edge of a crater and needed to do something before he fell into that dark hole, then he’d be forced to wallow in misery and despair for the rest of his life… _Drama, thy name is Mitchell_! Worrying at the finger that felt so bare all of a sudden, he lifted his gaze to look at Scott, who was staring at Mitch’s fidgeting hands, watching intently as his thumb continued to rub back and forth across his ringless finger. Embarrassed, Mitch abruptly ceased the movement, and watched as Scott jerked slightly. His blue eyes quickly moved away from hands to Mitch’s face before settling on the view out of the window. At any other time, Mitch would have given him hell for the clearly visible blush working its way from his neck to his face, but he already felt like a world-class asshole, why make it worse. He stared at Scott’s profile, the slight clenching of his jaw, the down-turn of his mouth, and thought back to that fateful day.

_”You always push… everything has to happen on your timetable and in your way. You want to sing, so you push… push for a band, for more practice, to create more, to join the Sing Off, to move to LA, to do interviews, to just go go go… you want a boyfriend, then a relationship, and you push without giving me the time to think, to be ready. I’m not you, Scott! I need time, I need to experience different things. You hug me, and kiss me, fuck me and make me feel things, and then all of a sudden we’re exclusive, and everything is happening, and it’s so fast and it’s what you want… and then you want to buy a house together and live together, and now this. I’m not ready, Scott and you pushing your feelings and ideas on me and forcing me to move at your timetable is not what I want! Fuck Scott! Give me some space…” He was talking too fast and he knew it, word vomiting and that was never a good idea. He was feeling the pressure, feeling unsure and definitely not ready, and he wanted to think but Scott was just fucking everywhere, dammit! Running his hands through his hair, he gripped tight… the need to pull, to ease the pressure to let loose some of the panic invading his senses. He couldn’t go through this again… He couldn’t be left behind…_ FUCK! WHY?! _Why did Scott have to do this – why couldn’t what they have be good enough? Why wasn’t what he wanted good enough? What was wrong with right now?_

_“Mitch, please…”_

_“Fuck Scott, you can’t box me in… you can’t force me into a relationship with you!”_

_“Force?” The word was whispered, and if only he had paid attention then._

_“How about you ask me what the fuck I want? Where I want to go? Fuck, whether I see myself in that picture that you have obviously created in your mind! What about my dreams? The things I want to do? The places I want to see, the experiences I want to have… What about the fact that I’m not ready… what if I don’t want to be in a relationship? What if I don’t want the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids and the fucking everything that you obviously do! What about where I see my life g–”  
It was the shattering of the glass that stopped the vitriol. The heretofore unidentified panic that had been clawing through his body decreased in intensity until all he could see was what was in front of his face – the devastation he had wrought in that blind panic._

_His boyfriend’s face crumpled in misery, tears falling down his cheeks, hands hanging limply at his sides, his shoulders hunched over, and his eyes on the floor. Mitch looked down and couldn’t help but stare at the opened velvet box lying on the broken glass, his and Scott’s smiling faces half hidden by shards of glass, and a diamond ring nestled in a blue velvet box. And in staring at that ring, he knew he couldn’t be here, he had to fuck… he had to breathe, he had to make sense of everything, and defying his body’s every instinct demanding he fix this whole situation, he turned around, speedily made his way to his old bedroom, grabbed whatever clothes he could fit into his overnight case and left the house. Not once looking at his boyfriend who was still leaning against a wall staring at the detritus of what had once been an anniversary dinner turned rejected proposal dinner._

Shaking his head, he forcibly tried to steer his thoughts away from that night. He needed to be clear-headed in his attempt to explain instinctive panic – and let’s face it, a debilitating case of FOMO – as a reason for spewing his insecurities out on a person who… _FUCK!_... bought an engagement ring… _DOUBLE FUCK!!_  
  


Clearing his throat, willing away the sense of dread he could feel lingering over his head like dark, stormy clouds, Mitch looked to the pale blonde in front of him.   
“First, I need to say that I’m sorry for running away.”

Bringing his hand up, he pre-emptively stopped Scott from saying anything to interrupt. He needed to explain, he needed to open up to the man whose only fault was in wanting to give him everything, and he needed to take responsibility for his actions. Absolution from Scott was taking the easy way out, and the man in front of him deserved more from Mitch.

“When we were younger, there were not many options for relationships because fuck, all of the Texas boys were straight heteros who would sooner beat me up than give me the time of day… and then there was Travis and all of my dreams were coming true.” Mitch winced at the look that crossed Scott’s face. Inhaling sharply, he dredged up the courage to face his fears, and his failings… _yay for his continued growth!_ “I figured that we would soon be married, move into a big house, and adopt some kids.”

Mitch grimaced, but continued. “It never occurred to me that there could be more to experience out there because that was all I knew… I mean, look at our parents,” he implored, watching the shifting expressions on Scott’s face. “They’ve been married for fucking forever, three kids, a couple of pets and what more do you need for a lifetime of happiness.”

Taking in a shaky breath, Mitch looked at Scott; his blue eyes staring intently at him, searching, penetrating…

“But then,” he faltered, licked his lips and drew a breath.  
“And then, you,” and ignoring the indrawn breath, looked down at his clenched hands on the table, fingers white with the pressure he was exerting. “You showed me so many things.”

Allowing himself a small smile at the stunned expression on Scott’s face. “You gave me the strength to dream, and to dream bigger. You helped me find my voice and gave me the opportunity to see different places, I mean… we’ve visited so many countries and seen every state in the US. It just… I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to even experience that or any of the new things and new cultures that we’ve come across in all those difference places. And on top of that, all the interests that we – I’ve developed on this long journey, is all as a result of you.”

“I,” he stuttered. “Mitch, I don’t think–”

Mitch held up a hand. “Wait.  
“Just, please let me finish.”

“In school, we knew we could sing, because hey, everyone told us, but you…” Mitch stared into his blue eyes, daring him to believe, “you saw more… you believed and you helped me grow, you helped us find a purpose, find our talent,” he shrugged, “and well, I’ve blossomed from that shy, ugly duckling to a confident, well… duck – uhh drake, I guess.”

Scott frowned, his hand left his lap and again, an aborted motion to reach across the flat surface. “You’re beautiful, Mitch. If anyone could ever be classified as a beautiful swan, that would be you.”

He was so sincere, that Mitch simultaneously felt the prickling in his eyes again, as well as the heat travelling up his face. _A strange sensation, to be sure…_

“Thank you, Scott,” he whispered, getting lost in those deep pools of blue, and then inhaling sharply when Scott blinked and turned away.

“Mitch –”

“I’m just saying that we needed, that I needed the push.” Mitch stared at the down-turned head. “I would never have even imagined a career like the one I have right now, if you hadn’t held my hand and pulled me along with you into every scheme, and idea and ambition you thought up.

“And of course, where I am today, where we are today is all because of you.” Mitch smiled, “So, really, it’s all your fault…” and immediately lost the smile at the sight of Scott’s visible flinch. “Oh, okay,” Mitch sighed gently, “not the time to joke.”

“Mitchy, I –” He combed his hand through the blond waves of hair. “Thank you, I guess…

“I’m glad that you, um, that you found a purpose, but God Mitch, you were – are an amazing talent. You would never have stayed in Arlington. I was just, I mean, my part wasn’t so much that…” He shrugged, “Just – you were always… special.”  
  
Mitch watched as the blond pressed his palms over his eyes, pushed hard before dragging his hands down his face and onto his lap. He looked up and Mitch only saw abject misery, downturned mouth, frown lines on his forehead and red eyes. A sinking feeling started to develop in his stomach, and unconsciously he wrapped his arms around his stomach and held tight. 

“Mitch, I can’t,” Scott was shaking his head. “You told me that… I was too much… that I forced –” The gulp was audible. 

This couldn’t be it, he couldn’t… this couldn’t be happening. The lead balls in his stomach were getting heavier and heavier and it was getting harder to breathe.

There was a shaky breath. “Maybe, I did push you. I can’t… I don’t trust my memories in this place.” Another shaky breath, “if you – you weren’t ready or you didn’t want,” another breath, “me, I think… then –”

“No.” It was almost a scream. “No, please…” Mitch let out a sob, “Please, I didn’t mean, I just… okay, maybe I wasn’t ready, but you can’t…”

Mitch stood on wobblily legs, grabbing onto the countertop to keep himself steady, “you can’t take it back… please.”

They stared at each other, both with tears streaming down their faces.

“Mitchy, I can’t… I’m sorry that I pushed, that I forced you into something you didn’t – don’t want… and I think maybe we need to just take a –”

“No, no, no, no…” Stepping closer, Mitch implored, “Please, you can’t take it back. You told me you loved me, and I love you… and maybe, maybe I panicked a little, okay a lot, but you can’t take it back, you can’t go away again.”

“I didn’t… I mean, I do Mitchy. I just don’t think –”

“You have to love me… you told me… you promised me, Scott.” Mitch sobbed again, gasping audibly trying to get air into his lungs. This was the most important fight of his life and he couldn’t lose, he couldn’t…

“I love you, and you can’t go to Alex… Screw Alex,” he said harshly.

‘Huh?”

His mind was spinning in all directions, and he couldn’t even get his words to form properly, “You can’t – I just – I didn’t mean…

"Fuck, you know how I am, overthink fucking everything, and then get anxious over the everything that I was fucking overthinking about anyway... and then I panic and say stupid shit, and act irrationally because I'm a fucking idiot who can't grab onto happiness when it is offered on a silver platter, and then I feel claustrophobic and I want to get out and I just can't deal and the only person who can help me is you and how can you help me when you're the problem-"

The sharp gasp ended the word vomit, and _God,_ he was thankful because this sure as shit was not the right way to fix the utter mess that his life and his love had become. "Shit, I'm sorry."

Mitch slammed his palm on the counter, almost as surprised as Scott seemed to be if the widening of his eyes was any indication. "I'm fucking sorry, okay. I just felt completely blindsided by the whole evening, and what if...

"What if, you got tired of me?" he whispered. "What if we went through with this, and I wasn't what you wanted, or I don't know, I was a shitty husband or I didn't want kids or maybe you meet someone else or go back to Alex, or find some other Mr. Fucking Perfect, and then, then there you would be, Mr & Mr Fucking Perfect, and I'm left out in the cold and fuck you, I hate being cold..."

“Mitchy, breathe….”

“He doesn’t… I don’t… want what I can’t… he just can’t… Love you… no take back… mine.” The words now like so much gibberish, until hands grasped his shoulders and shook him slightly.

“Mitchy!”

His teeth clicked as he closed his mouth. Feeling the warm palms around his upper arms, Mitch took a deep breath.

“That’s it, Mitchy, just breathe for me. In and out, in and out.” The hands rubbed gently up and down his arms and then the cold abruptly followed when those same hands left his skin. A shiver coursed through Mitch and was swiftly chased away by the warmth of Scott’s heavy jacket; his scent enveloping him and welcoming him to a place of warmth. His glass of water appeared in front of his face before being set on the table, and next to that, a box of tissues. He stared at the items for what seemed like ages before he grabbed a tissue to wipe his face, and then another to blow his nose. He probably looked a pitiful mess, blubbering like a baby or an idiot having a breakdown because of a mess he created… God, he was an idiot.

Mitch angrily wiped at his face, and sobbed, "I don't know how to be me without you, anymore."

Mitch heard the soft sigh and tensed.

He looked up at the tall blond, his back to him, fiddling with the coffee machine doing God knows what because Mitch knew for a fact that Scott had no idea how to use that stupid fucking machine.

“Scott,” he murmured. He watched as the figure stiffened, at the hands that were now clenching the granite counter.

“Scott, you asked me to marry you,” he said, and ignored the unwelcome gasp that sounded behind him. “And I’m sorry that I caused you to think that you were not wanted… that I didn’t want that.”  
He stared as Scott’s head dipped and his body produced a slight tremble.

“I love you, Scotty.” Mitch pulled the jacket tighter around him. “Always have, and never stopped and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I ever gave you cause to think that that had changed in any way.” Pulling another tissue from the box, he wiped at his wet cheeks.  
  
“I’m sorry that I panicked and said all the wrong things, and made light of it, and made you feel anything other than loved. I’m sorry.” Mitch stopped talking and waited. Waited for something… anything… a declaration, absolution, anything except an end.

“Scotty, please.” Mitch asked; begged. “Please look at me.”

The shoulders hunched up and an eternity later, Scott turned around, looked over his shoulder and gasped, before he lowered his face, his hands moving swiftly to wipe his cheeks. Then standing there, leaning against the counter, shoulders curved, his eyes focused on the floor, hands shoved into his pockets, and looking the very definition of defeated.

Mitch turned and frowned at his bandmates near the door. He didn’t know how much they heard, or how long they had been standing there, but their faces reflected enough regret, shame, understanding and sorrow, that he guessed it was a while.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, we’re just going to go…” Kirstie muttered before turning to walk away, Avi following close behind. Esther and Kevin stared at Scott, then glanced at Mitch before they too left the doorway.   
  
It seemed like an eternity later that he heard the jingling of keys, muffled goodbyes and the door closing. Turning, he frowned at the embodiment of despair otherwise known as Scott; and realised that this was the only opportunity he had to make this whole situation right again, to get back the love of his life and to absolutely make amends for all that he had put this man through, and maybe, just maybe he would be able to save this relationship he had almost broken through his panic and cowardice.

Stepping towards Scott, he reached out an imploring hand and began the process to start rebuilding his life…

***

Mitch watched with a smile as Scott’s fingers flew up and down the keyboard. The way that he lost himself in his musical arrangements made him both proud and jealous. Not wanting to interrupt the creative process, Mitch made sure to quietly move from the entrance to take a seat on the stairs so that he could indulge to his heart’s content.

The slight smile on Scott’s face, mixed with intense concentration and pure joy was a sight that Mitch would treasure for years to come. The fact that he had almost lost this, that in his own stupidity had almost thrown away was a sobering thought.

It had taken a long time to regain the casual relationship that they had had since kids. The love was there, for sure, but the trust had taken a long time to rebuild. Longer still, was the time it had taken for Scott to initiate any contact between them. For a man who couldn’t keep his hands off anyone when he was happy, and was the most touchy-feely person on the planet, it had broken Mitch to realise what damage had been caused by his careless words. Admittedly, they were not quite there but it would come… He just knew that if he remained patient, if he treated the man and the relationship which they shared with care, that what had once been almost irreparably broken would become whole again; what his cowardice had once placed in jeopardy, his patience and love would see restored.

As for the rest of the group, they were still working on repairing their own relationships with Scott. It wasn’t his fault that they all jumped to conclusions, he didn’t tell any of them to treat Scott the way that they did. Okay, so if he was being honest, then maybe, just maybe, he could have opened his mouth in defence of the man who had done absolutely nothing wrong except love him and maybe, just maybe, he could accept a little of the blame for the fracturing of the group relationships… but in the end, Mitch figured that as he had to work to fix what he had broken, Esther, Kit, Avi, and Kevin had to do the same. He could see, as they did, that Scott was no longer as trusting and open with them as he had been, but Mitch couldn’t help them with that. He never told them to treat Scott like crap, and though he understood that they were trying to protect him… as though he were some delicate little flower… blaming Scott without knowing the whole story was not the way to go about it. And okay, so when he realised it, he could have said something… but hey, everyone had to lie in a bed of their own making… But he did wonder what would have happened if the situation has gone on any longer. _Would PTX even exist…?_

In any other situation, Mitch would have laughed at the way they were deferring to Scott now, not that they didn’t do so before, but now they were treating him with kid gloves and being extra nice, and super attentive and exceedingly agreeable… It really would be funny if not for how sad it actually had been.  
  


The thought of the band breaking up was horrifying, but God, just the thought of not having Scott…. Geez, he had just gotten back into Hoying family’s good graces, thank God… and he more than suspected that had something to do with the beautiful man playing the piano in front of him and his big forgiving heart. So, even more reason to be thankful for where he was right now, and what he had... 

“Hey.”

He looked up to Scott smiling at him. “Are you being a creeper?”

“Nah, just listening.” Folding his arms across his knees, Mitch grinned at his boyfriend, “and basking in your brilliance.”

The blush was instant, and so endearing. The mumbled “shut up” even more so.  
“Do you want to play?”

“No baby, I just want to enjoy.” Mitch stood up, walked over to Scott and pressed his lips to Scott’s blond waves in a short kiss. “It sounds beautiful, and I got caught up. I’ve still got to finish the dishes.”

Scott shifted, straddling the bench and gently put his hands around Mitch’s hips and squeezed, his face coming to rest on Mitch’s chest. “Um, thanks. Was just messing around.” The voice muffled by Mitch’s sweater. “Hey, how about we make some popcorn and watch a movie. There must be something good on Netflix.”

“Sure, you check, and I’ll get the snacks.”

Breaking the hug, but not letting go, Scott stood, and his hands gently moved in a soft caress up his back, over his shoulders until they were cupping his face. Cold shivers ran down his body, and he found himself trapped, staring into deep blue eyes. He couldn’t say what Scott could see on his face, or read in his eyes, but being the sole point of intense focus was both unnerving and so, so intimate. However, the gentle kiss placed on his lips, caused a soft warmth to slowly move through his body, warming him from the inside, making him feel as though he were encased in a cocoon, protected and safe from the world. “I love you, Mitch.”

Lifting his hands, Mitch grasped Scott’s wrists and answered with a whisper through the lump in his throat, “I love you too.”

***

And it was, a few months later, lying in bed, cocooned in thick blankets and Scott's arms, listening to the rain pouring outside – he felt loved and sheltered and so happy – that an open box was place on the bed in front of him. A band of white gold, a round diamond and small rubies inlaid on the band…

No question was asked and no answer given; a gasp, a smile, a perfect fit, some tears, the coming together of bodies, all against the backdrop of rain pounding on the roof and windows.

When Kirstie threatened him and told him to treat Scott with care, he hugged her.

When Avi told him to surround Scott with love, he promised with his whole heart.

When Kevin mentioned that he should be gentle with Scott’s heart, he swore to do so with his whole heart.

When Esther smiled at him and told him that she was happy for him, for them both, and made him promise to always take care of him, he smiled back and crossed his heart.

The End.


End file.
